Sunday, August 6, 2017

Cameraperson

CAMERAPERSON (Johnson, 2016)

Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Feb 7, 2017

Review by Christopher S. Long

In “Cameraperson” (2016), veteran
documentary cinematographer Kirsten Johnson weaves together footage
from twenty-five years worth of her film projects into an intricate
and moving memoir that spans both continents and decades. The diverse
array of subjects is dizzying, from a harrowing delivery in a
Nigerian maternity ward to the reluctant testimony of war crime
victims in Bosnia and even to the spectacle of a performative Jacques
Derrida holding court on a Manhattan street.

Though she does not appear onscreen in
full until the final moments of the movie, Kirsten Johnson's presence
is felt in nearly every moment. In a film packed with riveting and
sometimes devastating footage, one of the most memorable moments
(commented on in at least half the reviews I've read) is also one of
the quietest ones. Very early on, a dazzling bolt of lightning stabs
down in the distance, prompting a startled gasp from Johnson
(off-screen) which is then followed by two quick sneezes, making
Johnson's camera wobble just as the film's title pops up, a gentle
opening for a film which pays witness to a good deal of trauma.

In another shot, Johnson's hand enters
the frame to clean off a car windshield in Yemen and we hear her
off-screen voice often, but, as (re)contextualized in “Cameraperson,”
the raw footage itself provides a constant reminder of Johnson's role
in its making as the cinematographer, a role few viewers are likely
to have given much thought to. The personality that emerges from
behind that wide-roving camera is charming, playful, humble, witty,
and, above all, deeply and personally engaged with her subjects.

This is crucial considering the perils
aplenty in appropriating footage of documentary subjects (given by
request to Johnson from the various directors of her many projects)
for a movie they couldn't have known about when they were first
filmed. But Johnson's empathy for her subjects spills out from behind
the camera to the screen and then overflows the edges of the frame,
and foregrounding her involvement with her subjects is one of the
keys to the film's ethical and aesthetic structure.

Though “Cameraperson” is very much
a movie about the workplace (a globe-sized workplace), the footage
proves that it was never just a job for Johnson or, perhaps more
accurately, that she sees the professional as inextricably
intertwined with the personal. Her empathetic eye leads directly to
some of the film's most poignant moments, such as when she scrambles
to follow a young Brooklyn boxer, stinging and raging from a narrow
defeat, as he rushes for a comforting hug from his mother. Johnson's
camera practically hugs the two of them, but from a respectful
distance. Her instincts produce another memorable moment when an
elderly Bosnian woman clearly remains too frightened to speak of the
war crimes she witnessed (“I have no problems, and I never did!”)
and Johnson brilliantly steers the conversation out of a dead end by
asking the woman if she has always dressed so stylishly (“Always!”)
You need to be intimately involved with the person you're filming –
you need to care – to think of a question like that in such a
moment. So much for the tired, debunked, yet stubbornly clinging
notion that a documentarian's prime directive is never to interfere.

Johnson gets directly personal by also
cutting in footage of her twin babies and then, most unforgettably,
of her mother, suffering from advanced Alzheimer's and obviously not
always clear about what's going on. This once again raises the
specter of exploitation, but the answer to that thorny issue has
always been a straightforward but unsatisfying one: you simply have
to trust the documentary filmmakers to make responsible and ethical
choices. No ideology, no non-fiction manifesto, no stylistic choice
guarantees either truth or ethical clarity – only the judgment of
the people making the film. By showing all of her work, by exposing
herself on such a personal level, bu so clearly asking the tough
questions of herself, Johnson provides viewers the access necessary
to evaluate her integrity and her acumen.

“Cameraperson” is one the most
remarkably edited films of recent years (with Nels Bangerter credited
as editor and Amanda Laws as co-editor), leaping back and forth in
time and across continents, chronology and geography subsumed into
the film's broader philosophical arguments. After one Bosnian woman's
harrowing testimony about systematic rape during civil war, the film
cuts abruptly to cheerleaders whipping up the crowd at Penn State.
Western viewers who were just wondering “How could they cover up
such atrocities over there?” get their answer. Just as important,
“Cameraperson” devotes considerable screen time to less overtly
dramatic or traumatic footage. Bosnia is the film's most-visited
location and it is the source of much trauma and horror, but Johnson
also devotes plenty of time to the beauty of the countryside, the
fresh food a family harvests, the quiet peaceful moments that make up
their lives today.

I've watched “Camerperson” three
times now and I am convinced it's one of the best and most vital
films of the decade, so rich and so thoughtful that I still feel
inadequate to plumb its depths or describe them. I promised myself a
while ago I wouldn't rely on the cop out “You just have to see it
yourself” so instead I'll say that I just have to see it again. And
then again. Give me another year or two to think about it, and I'll
get back to you. That seems only fair. Johnson spend twenty-five
years making it, after all.

Video:

The film is presented in its original
1.78:1 aspect ratios. The footage is culled from many sources, mostly
digital. Despite the different sources, the 1080p transfer doesn't
vary much in quality – I suspect the biggest challenge was in color
correction, striking a balance between a consistent look for
“Cameraperson” while also being true to the visual design of the
original footage. In any case, the high-def transfer looks quite
sharp and pleasing.

Audio:

The DTS-HD 5.1 Master surround track is
crisp though the sound varies from source to source (the difference
in sound among the many clips is more noticeable than the difference
in image). Some footage has burned-in subtitles for various languages
and Criterion provides an English SDH option for the English dialogue
as well.

Extras:

“Editing 'Cameraperson'” (36 min.)
provides fascinating insight into the development of the film,
especially the considerable changes it underwent during
post-production. According to Johnson and collaborators such as
editors Amanda Laws and Nels Bangerter, “Cameraperson” began its
lengthy journey as a much more “standard” documentary/memoir
complete with extensive narration. But realizing that it wasn't quite
working, Johnson and crew kept exploring new versions, coming up with
what Johnson calls the “trauma cut” which was quite devastating
then changing direction for its final, radically different
configuration.

“In the Service of the Film” (39
min.) is a round-table discussion with Johnson, filmmaker Gini
Reticker, and sound recordists Wellington Bowler and Judy Karp. It
covers some similar ground to the “Editing” piece but expands to
discuss different aspects of production, all emphasizing the
collaborative nature of the project.

The disc also includes two “Festival
Talks.” First, a Q&A session from a 2016 screening at the
Traverse City festival (22 min.) with Michael Moore interviewing
Johnson on stage, and then an Aug 15, 2016 Q&A session (15 min.)
at the Sarajevo Film Festival.

Criterion has also included “The
Above” (8 min.), a 2015 short film by Johnson which takes a U.S.
military surveillance balloon in Kabul as its focus point,
emphasizing how its looming presence affects the lives of people on
the ground.

A Theatrical Trailer (2 min.) rounds
out the supplemental features.

The slim fold-out booklet includes an
essay by filmmaker Michael Almereyda and also conveniently provides a
complete list of the films from which Johnson has culled her footage.

Final Thoughts:

I'll keep it simply. “Cameraperson”
is one of the best documentaries of the 21st century, and
thus also one of the best films of the century. As a documentary
memoir it has few peers. I was going to write “though the names
Chris Marker and Agnes Varda spring to mind” but I wouldn't want to
put that kind of pressure on Kirsten Johnson whose work stands quite
proudly on its own.